


Like it's supposed to be (Dean Winchester X Reader)

by Fezinating



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Additional Warnings Apply, Blood, Cutting, Death, Depression, F/M, Suicide, it's not a happy story folks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-07
Updated: 2015-03-07
Packaged: 2018-03-16 19:29:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3500174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fezinating/pseuds/Fezinating
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean comes back after a long day, but can't find the reader.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Like it's supposed to be (Dean Winchester X Reader)

**Author's Note:**

> Heya! Please don't read if you're easily triggered by the themes depression, cutting, suicide/death or blood! Thanks, take care of yourself, you lil cutie you.  
> Other than that,  
> Enjoy!

Killing and death was something he was used to. Cutting his way through the monster called ‘life’, leaving a trail of death and destruction behind. Death was sudden, unexpected and cruel and never, never pretty. Some people pretended death was glorious. He knew it wasn’t. He had seen death. He knew death. It had become a never-leaving companion, chasing his tail wherever he went.  
And that’s why it surprised him. He had never seen it coming.   
In hindsight, it was obvious. How you had crumbled down piece by piece. Slowly, uncertainly. Some days were better than other days, but hey, everybody had bad days, right? But he had never thought your good days would be considered bad days if it were anybody else. The darkness you had felt on the inside had consumed you, pulled you down without mercy. The darkness he blamed himself for. He thought he couldn't protect you from monsters he couldn't shoot, that didn't bleed, that he couldn't even see. But he should have tried.   
He had missed the signs. In the beginning, when it all started, he had shrugged it off. Odd behaviour, sure, but nothing too serious. You barely slept - he didn’t either, you barely ate properly - he didn’t either, you drank too much - he did too. And he was fine, right? Right? Besides, your behaviour only lasted for two weeks or so. Later he learned that’s when you had learned to conceal it.   
How could he have been this blind? He was your boyfriend, for fuck’s sake, he should’ve noticed. It was his job to look after you, and he had failed. He had failed everything he had ever believed in: you. Through his darkest days, you had been the only ray of hope in this forsaken world and his forsaken life. But he had been blind, unable to see the tears in your eyes or to hear the way your voice was less and less heard. You had seemed to fade away. And he had ignored it. For his own sake. Having to be forced to face the fact that you were breaking down would’ve caused him to break down with you. Oh, how he wished he could go back. He would break down, he would give anything. If only he had realised how precious you were to him. How selfish he had been.   
Somehow he had already known something was wrong when he entered the motel room. Something was floating in the air. Something bad. He had called your name, tired of a long day, craving your embrace. Silence had answered his calls. That’s when he started to look for you. You weren’t in the kitchen, making him dinner. You weren’t in the bedroom, taking a nap. Hesitantly, he had walked to the bathroom. The room he had been avoiding. Something felt wrong about that room. He had placed his hand on the cold metal of the handle and had pushed it down. There you were. Sitting against the bathtub, your eyes closed and cheeks red. Though your cheeks weren’t as red as the blood surrounding you.   
He had tried to call your name again, but the sound never left his lips. It was stuck. He had stood there, frozen in his spot for a few seconds. Seconds that felt like minutes, hours, days. Fear washed over him, knocked him over and threw him back in his place. No. No! NO! He hadn’t even realised it was his own hoarse voice bouncing off the walls.   
The red of your blood stained his jeans when he fell down next to you, reaching out but not daring to touch you. If he touched you, it would be real. It couldn’t be real, he needed it to be not real. He needed you, so desperately. But after a while, his warm fingertips touched your cold arm. He had only know your body as warm and soft, welcoming him with a loving embrace. He used to hold your hands, kiss your wrists. And on those wrists, he found the cuts that had ended your life. The knife was laying on the other side of the bathroom, thrown there in angry desperation.   
Your blood was sticky. It had dried, your body trying so hard to create a layer to stop the bleeding. But it had been no use, your beating heart had forced your blood out of your body. All because he, Dean Winchester, had been so incredibly selfish. How was he supposed to go on without you? You, the only thing that had been right in his life. The only thing that had made a bit of sense. The reason he was still breathing had left his life. The most important person was sitting in a filthy motel bathroom, covered by her own blood. All because of him. 

How was he supposed to carry on?

He wasn’t.

He couldn’t.

He shouldn’t.

Not without you.

His decision was made.

It was the right thing to do.

\--

The day was windy, dark clouds drifting overhead. Just like the day they had stumbled upon you, found you, befriended you. Sam thought it was fitting. His hands were stuffed into his pockets, no tears had left his eyes. Not yet. It hadn’t hit him yet. But he knew it would, and it would hit hard. Not only he had to say goodbye to his best friend, but also to his brother. Tragic, they had called it. But it wasn't. Sam knew it wasn't. It was cruel and devastating, like death always was. He sighed. At least you were together now. Like it was supposed to be.


End file.
